


these are the days that bind you together

by rhys_exe



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, very brief mention of Yvette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5452307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhys_exe/pseuds/rhys_exe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as Vaughn and Rhys have known each other, Vaughn is keenly aware of the two things about his best friend that has always remained the same over the many years:</p>
<p>One, his awful taste in socks (to which Rhys always and passionately defends that “a good pair of socks is an often overlooked detail of a gentleman’s wardrobe, you know!”), and two, how dead on his feet he is every morning.</p>
<p>Which is exactly where Vaughn finds himself.</p>
<p>[unbeta'd]</p>
            </blockquote>





	these are the days that bind you together

**Author's Note:**

> a while ago a friend said, "ok but Vaghn wearing Rhys' stupid socks" and honestly after that i got a bit carried away and so here we are? (title is from bad blood by bastille because i’m actually really terrible at coming up with fic titles also it's been stuck in my head since this fic’s conception and during its creation so ???)

For as long as Vaughn and Rhys have known each other, Vaughn is keenly aware of the two things about his best friend that has always remained the same over the many years:

One, his awful taste in socks (to which Rhys always and passionately defends that “a good pair of socks is an often overlooked detail of a gentleman’s wardrobe, you know!”), and two, how dead on his feet he is every morning.

Which is exactly where Vaughn finds himself.

Rhys—as per usual and right on schedule—stumbles out of the room the two sometimes share (really, it’s Vaughn’s, but most nights Rhys doesn’t quite care whether or not he ends up in his own bed), covered from head to toe and wrapped tightly by the bedsheets and grumbling, “ _Vaaaughn._ ”

Vaughn, accustomed to years of the same routine, only rolls his eyes fondly as he fishes out the last of the laundry from the dryer and tosses them into the nearby basket. “ _Rhyyys._ ”

“Can you _please,_ ” Rhys starts and throws himself down face-first onto the couch dramatically. “Tell me why you’re up and doing laundry so early. _On a Sunday._ ”

“Relax, Rhys, they were drying overnight. Besides, these are only those ridiculous socks of yours—” Rhys quickly cuts him of with an undignified scoff and “They are _not_ ridiculous!”

Vaughn gives a short laugh and tosses a matched pair of socks at his head, which Rhys only tosses back with really poor aim. As he begins separating the remaining socks and pairing them with their other half, he shakes his head. “The point is, I was going to march in there and wake you up in like an hour, anyway.”

“Dude, no! I was totally planning on, oh, I don’t know, _sleeping in._ ”

“Yeah, well, Yvette invited us to that lunch thing, remember?”

“Okay... See—I understand what you’re saying other than the fact that this is _Yvette_ we’re talking about, you know, the one who relies on us almost every day for lunch?”

“She wants to ‘treat her two best friends,’” (Rhys snorts at this.) “Or, at least that’s what she said.”

Rhys is silent for a beat before coming to a conclusion and shaking his head. “I’d still take some money just in case, bro.”

Vaughn only continues pairing the socks, giving a soft _hmm_ to indicate his agreement to the back-up plan. They slip into a comfortable silence, only the sounds of their soft breathing and Vaughn’s shuffling filling the apartment.

Shifting onto his side, Rhys turns to look at his best friend and—he can’t help but grin a little over the fact, even to this day—boyfriend. As he observes Vaughn carefully sorting and folding the plethora of colourful patterned socks, his mind starts wandering and he thinks of how Vaughn always washes all of his socks separate from everything else, and how he even takes his time to match every single pair for him before putting them away in Rhys’ dresser. Rhys doesn’t always get to see the task being done, but on the rare occasions that he does, he notices that Vaughn does it with this certain tenderness that always leaves Rhys’ heart aching in the best way possible.

It’s the little things that always reminds him of how much he loves Vaughn, and how generous and just plain _nice_ of a person his boyfriend is. It reminds him of the whys and hows of falling in love with his best friend, and it never fails to make him fall that much more deeper in love with the man.

Vaughn’s just about finishing up with the last few pairs of socks, and Rhys hums a bit in contentment, catching Vaughn’s attention and the two share a small smile before the silence is broken. Vaughn holds up a black-yellow-grey pair, asking, “How do you feel about this one? I think I’m in a stripes-and-diamonds kind of mood.”

And this is a thing they do: some days (although it’s been more often recently) they’ll share socks. Well, it’s more of a Vaughn-doesn’t-feel-like-wearing-his-boring-standard-Hyperion-yellow-socks kind of situation that results in Rhys’ socks being pilfered for the day, but he knows if he admits it out loud, especially after insisting the socks are anything but silly and terrible, Rhys will tease him about it for who knows how long. Rhys has always been known to make the most of those sorts of things, much to Vaughn’s exasperation when he turns it around on him.

The story goes like this:

Despite Vaughn’s insistence that Rhys’ socks are all actually awful, Rhys sometimes finds half of or an entire pair missing only to find them on Vaughn’s smaller feet later. Rhys doesn’t tell him this, but whenever he notices it’s one of those days, it actually leaves him feeling warm and fuzzy and so god damned _happy_.

Seeing Rhys’ confused and surprised expression the first time he nicks a pair, Vaughn laughs as he explains half-jokingly, half-serious. “It’ll be like you’re with me the whole day, bro.”

And some days, he and Vaughn split two pairs and wear one of each. Yvette often likes to tease the two about it ever since she first saw the mismatched socks on both their feet when they were hanging out at her apartment for movie-and-game night one time. Her go-to line is “You two have got to be the cheesiest couple ever to set foot on Helios,” and any variants of it she can think of. After hearing it for about the first dozen times, they honestly learn to simply tune her out. Mostly.

At some point, it’s no longer a conscious decision, wearing the same mismatched socks. It becomes a habit that neither of them realise they do almost daily, the action of going into Rhys’ sock drawer and grabbing the first two socks etched into their muscle-memory.

Like today.

Rhys sits up on the couch, the sheets falling off his shoulders as he looks over the already-matched pairs. “Um,” he squints, trying decide which of the many pairs to choose from. His brown and blue eyes immediately land on a particular pair—the blue and yellow-striped pair with the stars, slightly faded and worn out from use. It’s one of the many pairs he acquired via Vaughn, and admittedly his favourite.

Vaughn groans. “But you always wear that one!”

“Yeah, because they’re great, duh, just look at it! Besides,” Rhys goes a bit quiet and his face starts burning as it turns a brilliant shade of red. “It’s the first one you got me after we started dating...” he trails off.

At the confession, Rhys is so mortified he buries his face in both his hands, trying and wishing he could disappear immediately. And it doesn’t help that Vaughn has gone quiet, not a single word or sound coming from him, so Rhys takes a chance and peeks at him through a few of the metal fingers covering his right eye.

Vaughn’s eyebrows are furrowed, a slight frown tugging at the corner of his lips. It makes Rhys extremely nervous and unsure, and for a moment he stops breathing. “Bro, that’s... that’s actually really cheesy. Huh, Yvette was right.” Vaughn finally gets out, only making Rhys blush more fiercely.

“Vaughn!” Rhys screeches, trying to push the offending man from his seat on the floor. Vaughn only laughs once he topples over, and even through his embarrassment, Rhys joins him on the floor and he can’t help it—he starts laughing along with him because Vaughn’s laugh? Vaughn’s laugh is always, always, _always_ contagious, no matter the situation or mood. 

Wiping a tear from his eye, Vaughn has to catch his breath before speaking again. “You’d think for such a detail-orientated person I’d have noticed how sentimental and dorky you really are sooner. It’s cute.” From his position beside him, Rhys gently nudges him with his shoulder with a “I am not _cute_ ,” while trying his hardest to look tough and serious through his fading laughter and cherry-red face.

However, the expression on his face doesn’t do anything for him except make Vaughn start to laugh again. “Are you—dude, are you _pouting_?”

Rhys sputters, “Pfft! No!” He even places his organic hand on his hip as if to make a point, but Vaughn shakes his head with one of the biggest grins on his face that Rhys has ever seen.

“Hey,” Vaughn says quietly, placing a hand at the juncture where Rhys’ shoulder and neck meet, leaning forward slightly in order to make full eye-contact. “If you really want, we can wear that one today, okay?”

Rhys doesn’t immediately respond, too focused on the feeling of Vaughn’s soft, warm hand at his neck and trying to savor it. He hates how 85% of the time Vaughn’s awake before he is, if only for the fact that he usually wants this sort of affection as soon as he wakes up but only rarely gets it.

But as he’s receiving it now, he closes his eyes and leans into it, making a noise at the back of his throat when he feels the pad of Vaughn’s thumb rub against his cheek gently. He snaps out of it when he realises he hasn’t actually said anything, and he accepts with a nod and a small smile, opening his eyes to look back at the man in front of him. “Thanks.”

At first, Rhys only places a tender kiss to his cheek, but as he pulls away, Vaughn protests with an irritated grumble and the next thing Rhys knows, he’s suddenly being pulled forward into a kiss by his old Hyperion Hack-a-Thon t-shirt. The abruptness of it startles him, but as soon as the familiar lips meet his, he melts into the kiss. Vaughn’s still clinging to the t-shirt as if for dear life, which makes Rhys laugh to himself (and, okay, _maybe_ he files that bit of information away for later), but soon he isn’t thinking about anything other than the kiss and how he will never get tired of kissing his boyfriend, even decades from now if he and Vaughn are still a thing. (Which, Rhys really hopes they will be because, at this point, Vaughn is _home_ and he never wants to lose that.)

It’s Rhys who actually deepens the kiss, caressing the back of Vaughn’s head with the mechanical arm and pulling the accountant into his lap with the organic one. In response, he can feel the vibration of Vaughn’s contented hum, indicating he’s more than satisfied with the impromptu make-out session. 

When they finally separate, Vaughn nuzzles his nose to Rhys’ cheek and Rhys has the goofiest smile on his face right now and Vaughn is absolutely besotted with him. Even more so than he usually is. They’re both quiet for several moments as they catch their breath and enjoy each other’s company, and Rhys pulls him in even closer, as close as he physically can, wrapping both arms around Vaughn’s waist.

Eventually, Vaughn speaks, his breath ghosting over Rhys’ lips and cheek. “Rhys?”

“Hm?”

“We should, uh. We should probably get ready before we run late and end up getting murdered by Yvette for it.”

“You have a good point, however,” Rhys holds Vaughn’s head firmly as he plants a few gentle kisses on his cheeks and forehead and nose, causing Vaughn to giggle and protest that “That tickles, Rhys!” In-between kisses, Rhys continues, “I’d like—to stay here—for—two—more—minutes.” He finishes with a chaste kiss on the lips. “If you don’t mind?”

Vaughn, blushing slightly, nods. “Two minutes. Yvette won’t even know, right?”

“She won’t know a thing.” Rhys repeats, and the two sit there on the floor, limbs entangled and hands innocently wandering over every inch of each other’s skin as they continue sharing kisses in-between giggles and whispers of “I love you.”

And in that moment, there’s no Yvette, no Hyperion—it’s only Rhys and Vaughn.

(“Two minutes” turns into twelve and when they arrive at the diner chosen for their “lunch thing,” they only barely make it on time by a hair’s margin. And from the table she’s sitting at Yvette quickly zooms in on the slightly pink faces both are sporting and the secretive grins they keep giving each other. Eyes narrowing, she knows they’ve been up to something but, knowing them, and knowing how couple-y and domestic and _gross_ her two best friends can be, she involuntarily shudders and tries her hardest not to even think about it as she waves them over to where she’s sitting. Once she catches a glimpse of the two holding hands, Yvette fake-gags and, seeing this, Rhys and Vaughn both settle on rolling their eyes at her.)

**Author's Note:**

> please feel free to leave any comments, they are all greatly appreciated!!


End file.
